The Last Adventure
by fancythat23675
Summary: One-shot. Jack dies bedridden and Elizabeth helps prove that "it isn't his last adventure". Short and sweet :


A/N: Hey! So, I'm back! Hooray!

For those of you that are reading my other stories, I'm really sorry about not updating A Pirate's Life for Me: The Myth of the Sunken Ship. The fifth chapter is done, but it has a terrible ending that I need to fix before I upload.

Anywho, this story is about Jack's death—my own, personal invention, not his death in _Dead Man's Chest._ This is not a Sparrabeth story. Will's not there because he's the new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ (sorry, AWE spoiler!). Also, I would like to note that this story has two title choices: The Last Adventure or Now My Life is Complete

Disclaimer: You have no idea how much I want to, though.

The Last Adventure 

Tortuga was not the same anymore.

The streets that were once filled with the sound of laughter and the sights gay sailors were now cold and empty. There were no men dancing, and no men singing. There was not a single pirate in sight, as there were no ships tied up to the docks. The town was so quiet that you could have heard a whisper all the way on the other side of the island.

On a rare occasion the women would often have short conversations with each other, conversations that went like this:

"Did you hear?"

"Which house?"

"The one up there, on the edge of the island."

"Has anyone gone to see him?"

They were, in fact (though they did not realize it), having a conversation about none other than the infamous pirate _Jack Sparrow._

Jack Sparrow had lived a long and happy life, as far as everyone was concerned. He had captained a ship, destroyed three others, become rich on a chest full of gold, lived in Tortuga for twenty six years, and knocked up six different women.

Jack Sparrow was a man of adventures. He had been through many, and on this special night, he was destined to experience yet another.

In a tiny house on the edge of Tortuga, Jack Sparrow lay, in a small little bed- the exact bed that had once been part of his cabin quarters on the _Black Pearl._

If you had only seen Jack Sparrow once or twice, then you would not recognize him as the man that lay ill and bed ridden in this small cottage. His eyelids were no longer smeared with kohl, and his beard was long and over grown. His once handsome face was wrinkled and worn, and his dreadlocks were now gray with age. His hands had become rough from their many meetings with the tough rope used for sails, and his chocolate brown eyes were glazed with fever.

Sitting on the edge of Jack Sparrow's bed was a woman.

She was younger than him, but still her complexion showed that she had obtained an old age. The roots of her dark blonde hair were beginning to gray and her posture was not as stable as it used to be.

Leaning forward, the woman reached out a hand to stroke Jack's cheek.

"Jack….."

Jack Sparrow let out a long sigh and stared into his companion's eyes. They were glazed as well, but with tears instead of fever.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth managed a small smile as she used her other hand to rub Jack's tough, calloused ones.

"Jack Sparrow, what have you gotten yourself into?"

The question was more a thought than something to be answered, which was a relief to Jack, as he did not have an answer.

Memories from his past were slowly ticking away with every minute. He could not remember the last time since he had seen Elizabeth, or Will. He could not remember the last time he had laughed, the last time he had cried, not even the last time he had…..spoke.

But if there was one thing he did remember, it was that he was finished.

For the longest time, Jack Sparrow had been afraid of death.

But that was many years ago.

He had managed to retrieve the greatest treasure of them all—the one of being free.

_He was free._

He had sailed as far as he wanted. He had sailed around the entire world. He had experienced plenty sad times, and plenty joyful times. He had made friends, friends that he loved, friends that cared about him. He had done all that he wanted, and gotten all that he wished.

_ His life was complete._

So why, then, did it feel like something was missing?

However, as he felt a burning pain in his stomach, his thoughts were drawn away from the completeness of his life. He knew that his time was up.

"Elizabeth…. I've got to go, love."

"What do you mean, Jack?" Elizabeth asked. She did not understand what he meant.

"I'm leaving, Lizzie."

"Leaving? I don't think so! You can hardly get out of this bed, how can you go somewhere?"

"No, Lizzie. I have to go. I'm leaving."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in confusion. She still did not understand.

"This is it, Elizabeth. The last adventure of _Captain Jack Sparrow_."

When Elizabeth realized the true meaning of Jack's words, she let out a gasp, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Jack—no, you can't go—Jack, please! Please, don't go, I can get help—no, this isn't happening—please—don't go!"

She had spoken a moment too late, for it was only then that Jack closed his eyes and fell into a never-ending sleep.

Elizabeth wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to kill herself—but luckily, she didn't do any of those things.

Instead, she leaned forward and whispered a single phrase, and in that phrase she put a countless number of emotions, emotions that were meant for Jack, and only for him.

"This isn't the last adventure, Jack. It's only the first."

And at that moment, Jack smiled, smiled his playful, drunk smile, the smile that women had chased for years, the smile that marked him as him, the smile that every sailor knew—and as he smiled, only one thought ran through his head.

_And _now_, my life is complete._

Fin.

Well, that was a load of crap- but please, please, please review! It'll make my day loads better!


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